


Kembali

by ghee (sabakunoghee)



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, Gundala (2019)
Genre: BAMF!Godam, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, M/M, Self-Indulgent, The Author Regrets Nothing, everybody loves sancaka he's a cute little cat, i'm so sorry awang i love you but idk anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-22 18:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabakunoghee/pseuds/ghee
Summary: “Menjadi pahlawanbukanselalu tentang kita, ‘kan?”Nobody asked to be born as a hero – it was aburden, a massive responsibility which could take away one’s sanity if they didn’t train their mental stability enough.





	1. Tentang Godam

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed because we love to live dangerously just like that. Unfinished. Will be finished when I have another me-time.  
Warning: teori semena-mena, a bodo-amat story because I want to pamper myself, Godam super tampan, yagitudeh.

It wasn’t too much if Sancaka thought it was his final moment,

The claw – the gigantic, slimy claw – belonged to a two-meter-tall beast and it almost ripped his chest open, but _no_. Even though his vision was started to fade and his legs lost their ability to stand still, his other senses worked just fine. Something just hit the ground. And by ‘hit’, it meant _‘slammed’_, Sancaka – or _Gundala_, as he was, now – covered his mouth when the debris from shattered concrete and coals blurred the display underneath. He tried to analyze his current condition and caught a glimpse of a bizarre character. Obviously a male figure, but the question was, reinforcement or another opponent?

The newcomer who stood in front of him was the epitome of comic-book superhero; six-feet-tall, well-built, wrapped himself in a spandex-like costume with a (Sancaka _had_ to say this, _silly_) cape attached on his board shoulders. Sancaka shook his head, a weak attempt to bring himself back to reality and tried to get on his fighting stance. _Shit_, the battle wasn’t easy for him since the monster was able to absorb his elemental strike and grew even stronger. The stranger who helped him was lucky enough for having a superb raw, destructive power, it prevented their common enemy to regenerate its limbs.

Fuelled by curiosity, Sancaka took a step closer and his eyes almost popped out from its sockets. He was one yard away from the scene when he captured an impossible moment; the man’s body _shrank_ and his outfit magically _changed_ into something more appropriate. The _smaller_ guy took out a hatchet from the back of his pants and with a fluid movement, he quickly beheaded the powerless creature.

“Nggak mungkin…”

The son of thunder hissed once he acknowledged _who_ he was.

“Lama nggak ketemu, lo masih nggak tegaan aja jadi orang,” the smug face he would never forget – the arrogant one smiled asymmetrically while toying with the decapitated head, “Heh, Sancaka?”

* * *

They quickly learned about each other in a relaxed conversation that took place in Sancaka’s flat.

It wasn’t luxurious, but the atmosphere around them was warm and welcoming. Monochrome pallet brought an earthy and friendly ambiance, the simplicity of the furniture made them easier to focus on the main topic. Sancaka just discarded his Gundala costume, stored them safely inside a double-locked closet, and excused himself to brew two cups of herbal tea. Questions flooded his mind right now. He was shocked, _of course_, he never thought he would reunite with his long-lost childhood hero. And, in a _wilder_ version of any scenario – Awang played a dangerous game with this unknown brawler.

_Who’s this guy, what’s his relationship with Awang, _and derivatives from the biggest question mark: _what’s with the transformation?_ Was it a complicated camera trick? An advanced level of a prank?

(Why would someone do that?)

Luckily, Sancaka was raised with norms and manners; he held back his curiosity and gently smiled at the big man who comfortably sat on the single-sofa.

“Jadi,” he placed a cup in front of his guest and another one for himself, “Mm. Anggap rumah sendiri? Nggak perlu sungkan?” Sancaka awkwardly grinned, “Mulai darimana ya, enaknya…”

“Nama saya Godam,” unexpectedly, the visitor announced his identity first, “Saya bukan dari negeri ini – bukan dari _dunia_ ini, bahkan,” the explanation made Sancaka’s eyebrows furrowed and inaudibly whispered, ‘what-the-fuck’, which was highly acceptable, “Saya paham, ini terdengar gila. Ketika saya pertama kali ceritakan hal ini kepada Awang, dia juga sempat tidak mempercayai saya.”

“Kamu… Cerita ke Awang…” his brain cells clearly tried too hard to consume those crazy statements, “Sebentar – sekarang, Awang mana?”

“Ada, di sini,” Godam tapped the temple of his head, sent Sancaka to another _‘whaaat?’_-moment, yet he didn’t object and let Godam finish his explanation, “Saya nggak bisa cerita terlalu banyak – _intinya_, saya terkurung di sebuah cincin, dan cincin itu diberikan kepada Awang,” he paused to sip his tea, and it tasted so good, or at least better than whatever Awang called coffee, “Awang adalah medium saya untuk dapat bergerak dan beraktivitas di dimensi kalian.”

“…wow,” _this is getting wilder and wilder_, but nothing came out from his mouth. To be fair, nobody trusted him either; a random child who got struck by thunder and grew up possessing the power of lightning. A normal person would face a certain death instead of being an element wielder. So, Sancaka nodded wholeheartedly before asking, “Kenapa… _Bumi_?”

Godam bit his lips, sighing, “Kerajaan saya sudah jadi debu. Orang tua saya melarikan diri dari perang, berpindah-pindah, bertarung, sampai di satu titik, saya melanggar ‘sumpah’ dan seperti yang saya ceritakan barusan,” he clearly didn’t want to go into details and Sancaka respected his decision. It wasn’t wise to spill the existence of Bapak Kebenaran; or at least not to an earthman he had only known for like, fifteen minutes, “Bumi sangat rentan terhadap kekerasan dan ketidakadilan, saya lihat, karena itu saya berpikir untuk membantu.”

“Oh, pantesan,” at those sincere words, Sancaka lightly chuckled. He noticed that Godam stared at him with puzzled face, so Sancaka gave him a soft gaze, “Awang yang saya kenal paling nggak suka ikut campur urusan orang,” he looked up, stared at the ceiling, and it was really weird to imagine a person who _physically_ sat right in front of him, yet the soul inside his mortal vessel belonged to someone else. Sancaka shrugged, “Tapi, semua aksi kamu, Awang tahu? Awang sadar?”

“Pasti,” confidently, Godam confirmed, “Saya tidak akan bertarung tanpa persetujuan Awang.”

_Sounds like a consensual relationship_, Sancaka almost laughed at his own thinking.

“Cara kamu berantem tadi, juga, nggak Awang banget,” nevertheless, Sancaka failed to suppress the commentary – and he regretted it afterward, “Mm. Sori. Saya nggak bermaksud banding-bandingin.”

“Nggak apa-apa,” Godam’s voice was tender in a way Sancaka couldn’t comprehend, “Awang justru seneng banget karena kamu masih ingat sama dia.”

Sancaka _knew_ his heart was fluttering – although he didn’t know _why_.

“Oh iya? Orang kayak Awang, _seneng_?”

“Sejauh yang saya pahami, Awang juga manusia, sama seperti kamu.”

_Oh, boy_.

“Memangnya, apa yang kamu ingat dari gaya bertarung Awang?”

Sancaka huffed, “Yang barusan tanya, Awang atau kamu?”

Godam laughed at the accusation, “Anggap dua-duanya.”

“Aneh banget rasanya, ngomongin orang, tapi yang diomongin denger…” whispered Sancaka while messaging the nape of his neck, “Jujur, nggak banyak, lupa karena kelamaan. Saya terakhir ketemu dia itu sekitar dua puluh tahun yang lalu,” oh, was it a _guilt_ on Godam’s face? Sancaka wondered who was the one behind that sad expression, for real, “Yang bisa saya pastikan, Awang selalu berantem dengan tujuan membuat lawan-lawannya _kapok_.”

Sometimes, _dying_.

Today was Sancaka’s first time to witness how barbaric and effective Awang could be in close-ranged combat. He never saw Awang killed a _human_, though – but if he ever did, it wasn’t hard for Sancaka to perfectly portray it. It wasn’t like he opposed the idea, though. The world they ever knew was a living hell called slum area. The strongest kept on winning and living. Meanwhile the weak and poor had no choice but slithering on those dark, stinky alleys to scramble some remains from the trash bin. They were trained for survival. Awang and Sancaka, both are products of how unfair a system could be.

He could never judge whichever path Awang had taken.

“Saya nggak bisa membunuh orang, kalau itu yang kamu maksud, Gundala.”

Sancaka raised an eyebrow.

What he was facing, now? A virtuous, morally-good, angelic guardian who would shove him the utopia named world peace? Sancaka had done this superhero-things for months, almost a year, he learned that assassination, _sometimes_, was needed. He didn’t blindly murder a group of criminals, of course, and he couldn’t get rid of the bitterness after executing his final blow. Sancaka could feel how trembling his hands were as he lifted the teacup, and after hardly swallowing once, he resumed their talk.

“Karena kamu punya kompas moral sendiri?”

Godam looked down, tried to find some proper words, “Karena saya disumpah untuk _tidak_,” his face was stiff when he answered, and it made Sancaka focused on his well-defined jaws, “Ada beberapa pantangan yang tidak bisa saya langgar, kecuali saya mau selamanya terkurung di cincin, _lagi_,” Godam smiled and the gentle curve on his face affected Sancaka, made the air around them was easier to breathe, “Saya diwajibkan menghargai kehidupan, tidak boleh merebutnya dengan cara tidak wajar.”

“Mm,” there was a solid silence between them as Sancaka was busy with this thought, “Terus, kalo kepepet kayak tadi…” he didn’t continue; he _knew_ Godam understood the meaning behind his pause.

And it wasn’t like Godam didn’t expect the question.

Yet it was still hard for him to answer.

“Ada alasan kenapa saya membutuhkan manusia sekuat Awang,” his voice turned deep, eyes silently begged for Sancaka to not investigate any further, “Kita baru satu kali bekerja sama. Nanti, lama-lama kamu akan paham, Gundala.”

Godam’s diplomatic reply didn’t satisfy Sancaka, but he decided not to interrogate his new friend way deeper than this. This was their first interaction, right? Sancaka low-key wanted to leave him a good impression, thinking that they might be involved in a situation where teamwork would be needed.

“Saya… Juga selalu berusaha untuk tidak menghilangkan nyawa orang lain,” Ridwan Bahri wanted him to be a peacemaker, not a cold-blooded executioner, “Biar hukum yang kasih mereka efek jera.”

“Saya percaya, kamu baik, Gundala,” the faint sound of porcelain met glass surface echoed in the small room as Godam put the cup down, “Pasti berat memikul beban karena kamu tidak terlahir sebagai manusia _biasa_, dan jika kamu teledor dengan anugerah tersebut,” his dark-coloured eyes pierced deeply into Sancaka’s soul, penetrated beneath his defenseless mind; Sancaka had no idea how could Godam intimidate him in such harmless move, “Nafsu duniawi bisa mengalahkan idealisme kamu.”

The warning was _intense_, Sancaka almost threw up.

“Tapi kamu juga harus ingat, sebelum menjadi pahlawan, kamu juga seorang manusia biasa,” the tone was calmer and it soothed Sancaka’s sudden numbness – again, in peculiar way, “Kamu punya hak dan kewajiban untuk membahagiakan diri kamu sendiri.”

“…saya nggak pernah minta menjadi pahlawan.”

Godam agreed,

Nobody asked to be born as a hero – it was a _burden_, a massive responsibility which could take away one’s sanity if they didn’t train their mental stability enough.

“Menjadi pahlawan _bukan_ selalu tentang kita, ‘kan?”

_Damn, he’s right_.

Their physical distance was diminished as Godam closed the gap and landed his strong palm on Sancaka’s shoulder, “Ingat, sebagai ‘Sancaka’, kamu berhak sesekali egois.”

“Tapi nggak sebagai Gundala,” they shared the same energy when the words blurted out, “Makasih.”

“Berbagi sama saya jika butuh teman bicara. Tidak baik dipendam sendiri.”

“Saya nggak mau nambah-nambahin beban kamu dengan curcolan saya.”

Godam shook his head, “Awang saja sering bercerita.”

“Serius? _Awang_?” apparently, Godam never failed to amuse him, “Dia cerita apa aja, emangnya?”

“Wah, untuk yang satu itu,” the brawny man blinked an eye, a non-verbal way to tell him that it was a secret between two brothers, “Tanyakan saja sendiri, ya?”


	2. Tentang Awang

The faint, distinctive smell of burning metal filled the room and it made Awang jolted up from the bed. He groaned as he felt the sudden pain from the back of his head. _The fuck just Godam did,_ he whined internally while analyzing the clean bed he never recognized. Stood innocently on the cabinet beside him, a big glass of warm black tea, alongside with two pieces of dry toast with strawberry jam on top. Awang blinked; he tried to process every detail of remained information his braid could store. Next, he checked his chest and huffed in relieve – it was still there. The ring, Godam’s ring, was safe around his neck. Vaguely, he heard the electric spark from the other side of the opened door and took a peek.

Ah, of course – Sancaka.

Slowly, Awang restored the memories before he totally passed out. He just arrived at the battlefield and Gundala was on the verge of death. Awang didn’t think twice and charged into the enemy – almost killed himself in the process, but luckily, Godam showed up in the nick of time. The rest of the story wasn’t beautiful for a reunion. A severed head and a bunch of journalists, police siren and ambulance.

It wasn’t an easy task to maintain his consciousness when Godam controlled his body; his action, his reflex, his fighting style, every move Godam did wasn’t _human_ and his _body_ wasn’t designed to endure such massive force. And Awang was too stubborn and proud; no matter how much he trusted Godam, he never granted him a full-access when it came to decision making. In order to do so, Awang _had to_ stay awake and alert as long as he put the ring on. It also made him easier to execute their opponent in a point-blank range. However, the aftermath left him with extreme exhaustion and dehydration.

Awang finished his tea and bread before sluggishly dragging himself out of the bedroom. He found the man from his childhood sat on his working space, his right hand gripped the soldering iron, while the left one abusing the volume button of the TV remote control. The prime-time news broadcasted how an unknown creature horrendously appeared from nowhere and rampaging around the city. Gundala was reported as ‘succeeded to exterminate the threat’ – Sancaka let out a long sigh and glanced up at Awang who stared at him for the last twenty seconds. Their eyes met and Sancaka swore it wasn’t butterflies flying inside his stomach. Probably wasps. Or hornets. For its venomous, burning sensation.

“Hoax nih,” Sancaka was the first to break the silence, “Bukan gue yang harusnya masuk berita.”

Those sour commentary made Awang snort, “Gue nggak bisa sembarangan nampang kayak lo.”

Sancaka huffed.

To be annoyed by Awang’s grumpiness was the last thing on his personal list he might need. But _oh_, it was Awang anyway; he hated attention as much as sticking his nose in other people’s business.

“Itu apaan, sih, sebenernya?”

Now, that was the only question that mattered, “Dugaan sementara, hasil percobaan,” well, explaining theoretical stuff wasn’t his virtue, Awang hoped Sancaka could understand his limited capacity, “Gue nggak ngerti, deh, ini pake jampi-jampi atau karya ilmuwan gila, yang jelas ginian banyak berkeliaran di Tenggara,” Awang stuttered for a moment and avoided to see Sancaka in the eyes when saying so, “Kemampuan regenerasi mereka nggak manusiawi. Cara paling gampang dengan tebas kepalanya.”

“Tenggara?” Sancaka squinted, “Lo bilang, Tenggara itu –”

“Maju,” Awang nodded, “Tapi ternyata ‘maju dan berkembang’ itu pedang bermata dua. Di balik hidup masyarakatnya yang lebih baik daripada di sini, banyak hal-hal yang disembunyikan. Salah satunya ya, begitu-begitu itu,” he showed a face of disgust as the news highlighted the close-up views of the head he had decapitated, “Dari salah satu yang gue bantai, ada potongan baju manusia di badannya.”

“Yang artinya…” it was hard for Sancaka to swallow his own guess.

Awang shrugged, “Bajunya robek dari arah dalem – yang artinya jelas, mereka _pernah_ pakai baju,” he mocked at the theories declared by the interviewees which he considered dumb, “Ini narasumber terlalu naif, atau terlalu goblok untuk bisa menyimpulkan kalau monster itu dulunya manusia.”

_My God_.

Sancaka stroked his face in disbelief.

“Tapi bentuknya udah _nggak_ manusia, Wang.”

“Jeroan dan otaknya juga, jadi lo nggak perlu terlalu merasa bersalah,” his tone was harsh and straight to the point; a quality Sancaka never had, even after he was ‘baptized’ as a superhero, “Nggak usah cemas, lo nggak perlu ngotorin tangan lo gara-gara mereka – biar Godam dan gue yang urus sisanya.”

“Sisanya?” repeated Sancaka, “Lo tau mereka ada berapa?”

Awang shrugged, “Godam bikin semacam… Kesepakatan, apapun namanya, dengan aparat keamanan Tenggara, kami setuju buat buat ngabisin yang masih berkeliaran. Yang barusan satu, sisa tiga lagi.”

_Jadi, lo balik ke kota ini, karena ‘pekerjaan’?_

Sancaka restrained himself.

There was way too much information and Sancaka couldn’t keep up. First, he reunited with Awang, in the most bizarre scenario that could ever happen. Second, his childhood friend brought another entity inside his ‘head’ named Godam who was a total opposite of Awang. Third, they were here for a secret mission of getting rid of the result of a horrible human experiment. Sancaka didn’t know what did he expect either from seeing Awang again after almost two decades, but – at least, a proper ‘sorry’? _No_, why would he blame Awang for leaving, if he, himself, never intended to flee this town and pursued Awang to Tenggara? Sancaka was too coward, and Awang was too full of himself. They were so –

“Omong-omong, si alien kampret itu bacot apa aja?”

…_lost_.

Sancaka knew that time and space loosened their bond. He just didn’t know how to gain it back.

“Gue kira lo dengerin obrolan gue sama Godam,” at least, for now, Sancaka didn’t want to lose him again, and when Awang was still around, he would try to make their togetherness was worth the time, “Dan, _oh_, dia alien, ternyata?”

“Tadi ketiduran, gue,” Awang didn’t answer the later question since he knew it was rhetorical.

“Dia cuma bilang, lo sering cerita ke dia,” Sancaka turned off the television and filled the room with the vintage, slow music from his old-fashioned gramophone. He glanced at Awang who now stood up near the pantry door less-entrance, casually leaned on the archway.

How time could transform an aimless, poor boy into a grown-up, good-looking man was both magical and terrifying. Awang wasn’t as bulky as Godam, though, but he clearly went through some kind of vigorous training for achieving that athletic figure. His hair was longer than what Sancaka remembered – he styled it on a messy bun on top of his head – his skin was darker and his height was ridiculously tall. Awang kept his facial hair short, but visibly well-maintained, his taste of fashion was still poor but Sancaka bet, _anything_ would do the justice for Awang already possessed that perfect, sturdy posture.

(He realized he stared at his friend way too long and started to be unsettling.)

Sancaka averted his eyes and abandoned his seat, straight to the fridge.

“Sembarangan,” Awang denied, which was easily predicted, “Dia yang nanya-nanya duluan. Kepo.”

Sancaka snickered as he swung open the refrigerator door, “Ha-ha, baru tau gue dia kepo gitu.”

“Emang nggak kerasa pas dia ngobrol sama lo?” Awang dragged a palm on his own face when Sancaka stared back at him cluelessly, and shook his gullible head. Godam was _obviously _trying to flirt and this little friend of him didn’t catch a single hint. _Poor muscle-man_. He let out an exaggerated sigh before resuming, “Lagian, soal Godam, nanya ke gue. Soal gue, nanya ke Godam. Apaan banget dah, San.”

“Sori, deh, sori,” replied Sancaka with a light expression as he handed Awang an opened bottle of cold beer, “Habis, lo bukan orang yang suka ngomong, dan kita udah nggak ketemu lama banget, gue –”

Sancaka’s hesitation triggered Awang, “…lo?”

“Gue bingung aja harus mulai darimana.”

Awang was clearly unhappy with how Sancaka being this distant with him but oddly friendly when he was talking to Godam. Curse him, for not being able to state his jealousy bluntly – _wait, who’s jealous?_ He stuttered for a mere second, but eventually accepted the bottle Sancaka offered; they fingers lightly brushed in the process and it froze Awang completely. _What on the fucking earth_, he was lucky the bottle didn’t slip his unstable grip. Hey, they used to share a bed together when they were brats, remember? (But – back then, Sancaka wasn’t this… _interesting?_ Awang nearly slammed his head.)

“Apaan sih, kayak sama siapa aja,” he sharply exhaled, swallowing his first gulp of the light alcohol to hide his nervousness, “San, dari kita kecil dulu, apa pernah gue nggak jawab pertanyaan lo?”

Sancaka fell silent.

_Tapi lo ninggalin gue, Wang._

He devoured the scorching words and hell, it was painful.

Sancaka was too naïve for thinking that this moment could bring only joy. The wounds from their past and hadn’t been healed just yet. Sure, he was happy and thankful to see Awang once again, in a healthy and perfect condition – but, he, _they_ didn’t know anymore. They were so wrecked; restarting and restoring their so-called friendship wasn’t easy. Sancaka hoped he wasn’t the only one who struggled.

Little did he know, Awang, too, felt an obligation to explain himself to Sancaka. He scratched his hair like the early sign of frustration before sitting side by side with Sancaka on the sofa-bed. He quietly examined how Sancaka played the beer bottle with zero intention to sip the extra-smooth alcohol.

“Godam bilang dia perlu manusia sekuat lo,” he finally blurted it out and stared at Awang thoroughly – without knowing his ability to absorb Awang completely into his eyes. Sancaka swallowed, _hard_, it was easy to speak with Awang when he was a kid, and looked at him now, “Udah berapa kali, Wang?”

He wished to learn the truth.

As Sancaka deepened their eye contact, Awang was already lost. It had been _years_ and Sancaka still owned him like he always did; how could Sancaka never changed, Awang would never understood, especially the way he looked at him – _ha_, was that why he rescued the wayward small boy back then when they were much younger? Sancaka was a brave rascal despite his lack of strength and power, but he was never afraid to fight back (even though he knew, he couldn’t win). _Crap_. Awang found himself trapped inside Sancaka’s grasp once again. He couldn’t run, nor escape. He told him no lie.

“Dia cerita kalo gue pernah bunuh _orang_?”

“Secara nggak langsung.”

Even though he learned that his presumption was correct, Sancaka wasn’t frightened by the fact. He remained seated beside Awang, hands relaxed, eyes connected.

“Apa lagi?”

“Bahwa itu penyesalan lo yang terbesar,” if he could choose, Sancaka would like to hear another story about Tenggara, on how Awang survived and lived, but those things could wait. Sancaka’s priority was to make sure that _having_ Godam underneath his consciousness wouldn’t do any harm to Awang, “Tapi dia nggak cerita sejauh apa, kenapa, dengan cara apa,” Sancaka softened his tone, “Dan siapa.”

Awang strongly nodded, “Semua bener.”

Sancaka could feel his heart clenched.

“Lo nyesel,” he reconfirmed, eyes focused on Awang, “Karena, membunuh, orang?”

“Gue nyesel karena nggak membunuh _dia_ lebih cepat.”

Sancaka didn’t expect Awang’s erupting emotion.

His ‘why’ was hanging inside his throat. Awang’s reaction made Sancaka took a step back. His question must’ve provoked something that traumatized Awang – he shivered at his own unresolved confession and avoided Sancaka at all cost. Sancaka was about to lay a hand on Awang’s back, but his friend stood up in hurry.

“Wang –”

“Gue nggak bisa cerita lebih dari ini.”

Sancaka was petrified – he couldn’t move at all when Awang dashed to the front door, slammed it and left without any other words. Never had he seen Awang this agitated and it broke his heart for a reason.


End file.
